Come Back, Little Shithead

Patty the cat has disappeared. It happened sometime yesterday when the finishing guy was here doing the final fixes and touch ups for the remodel. The last day that people would be invading the house and taking over large parts of it.

Normally, when workers arrived, she would head upstairs and hide in a closet or behind furniture. In the last week or so, I would see her first thing in the morning, then she would disappear during the day and finally show up on the stairs around 6 p.m.

Last night, she didn't come down. This morning, she was nowhere to be found. The only thing I can think of is the fix-it guy (who had his gear set up in the entry) had the front door open, Patty wandered down, got spooked by something and bolted out the door.

We had made it through. When I made the final payment on the remodel job last night, I was so relieved that these people wouldn't be coming back. And on the last day of the insanity, Patty makes the decision (whether ruminated or instinctive) to take off. She had no idea this was the day we got our house back.

At present, the front door is open wide enough to accommodate the entry of a returning cat. I've made up posters and put them up in the immediate area, but I'm not holding out a lot of hope. Patty is terrified of strangers, and hiding and fleeing are her only real defenses. She has no knowledge of streets and cars, or dogs or other cats, for that matter.

I am devastated. She was the one source of concern and affection I had available on a daily basis. After having Marcel put to sleep, it was pretty much she and I. Now I am quite literally left alone in my house.

It seems to me like God has been taking things from me: my career, my husband, my home, and now my only remaining companion. Now I am going this totally alone. The house is now empty, and my only work left is emptying it more, making it look less like the home I've shared for nearly a decade.

The door will remain open, even in the evenings, until I go to sleep. I trust that the security gate will keep out the worst of intruders, and I can only imagine how Patty would feel if she recognized the door but couldn't get in. It's really the only hope I have left, and it doesn't feel too promising.

So I will motivate myself to do more packing, keep myself busy and hope for the best. I imagine the moment when I will hear her meow again as she trots through the door. But I have a sinking feeling that I won't be needing the Pet Tube for the drive to Wisconsin.

I keep dreading the thought that, having gotten worse, things aren't going to get better; that there will be another set of losses for me before I get the house sold and move on with my life. It's not a happy feeling by far, and is yet more fecal matter through which I must wade on the way to the rest of my life.

And in two days is the sixth anniversary of Steve's and my wedding. That will be another fun day to get through.